


The Comfort Of The Dark

by kittenofdoomage



Series: The Twelve Days Of Kinkmas 2018 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Demon!Dean, F/M, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 15:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: The reader gets dumped and finds solace in a stranger's arms.





	The Comfort Of The Dark

“You look like you’re having a rough night,” the bartender drawled, passing you another whiskey. You knocked it back, making a face at the sharp burning sensation that followed the liquid down your throat. “Man troubles?”

You snorted. “Yeah. Asshole dumped me.”

The bartender blinked in surprise. “On Christmas Eve?”

“He said, after three years, that I wasn’t the sort of girl,” you wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, beyond caring what you looked like, “you take home to your parents. I wondered why I hadn’t met them and when I pushed the issue -” A noise of disgust left you and you waved your hand.

Another whiskey appeared in your hand and the bartender smiled. “Not the sort of girl you take home huh?”

The man next to you had been there awhile, sitting with his back to you. At the sound of your voice, he turned, signalling the bartender for a fresh drink. “What sort of girl does that make you?” You met his eyes, taken aback by how handsome he was. The corners of his plump pink lips curled up in a lewd smile.

“According to my ex?” you sighed, shaking your head. “The sort of girl you only want around for sex.” Lifting your glass, you sipped the whiskey, shuddering again at the taste. “Good luck to him finding another girl willing to -”

The stranger waited, raising an eyebrow and you started to giggle.

“You know what? Nevermind. I’ve had a lot to drink.”

He chuckled back, sipping his drink smoothly, handing over a few dollars to the bartender. “Leave the bottle.” You blinked in surprise as the man looked back at you, eyes sparkling. “C’mon, it’s Christmas Eve. Isn’t that the best time to confess your deepest darkest kinks to a gorgeous stranger in a seedy bar?”

Grunted in annoyance, you turned your attention back to your glass. “Christmas can go fuck itself.”

A shocked expression covered his face. “Not feeling the holiday spirit?”

“I ain’t feeling the holiday anything,” you scoffed back, draining your glass. “It’s all humbug, I tell you. Humbug.” The quote made him laugh properly and the sound was pleasantly rich to your slightly intoxicated hearing. Even though you knew talking to him was probably a bad idea, you were running so low on fucks, you threw caution to the wind. Picking up the bottle of cheap whiskey, you got to your feet, already feeling the buzz in your veins. An empty booth in the corner drew your attention and you sauntered over to it, knowing the man was following without needing to turn around.

You slid into one side of the booth and he slid into the opposite, watching you with hungry eyes as you swigged straight from the bottle. “I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself.

He took the bottle as you offered it, flashing you a panty-drenching smirk. “Dean.”

*****

It took forty-five minutes to drain the bottle and by then, it was nearly midnight. The conversation between you and the handsome Dean had turned dirty before it had a chance to be just friendly, and fifty minutes after you’d sat down, he was dragging you through the fire exit of the bar. You were drunk enough to know what you were doing, and drunk enough to not care when Dean shoved you against the wall by the dumpster.

“You got no idea who I am,” he growled, biting along your jaw with blunt teeth, “I could carve you up and leave you in pieces.”

“And yet,” you gasped, pushing him back, groaning at the feel of his firm chest, “I’m still not leaving.”

Dean smirked, getting only a second before you were pulling him into another bruising kiss. “You’d let me fuck you right here, wouldn’t you, slut?” The derogatory slur made you shudder and you nodded, grinding your lower body against his.

“Do you have a place?” you asked and Dean shrugged.

“Motel?” he offered and you snorted.

“No thanks. Might like being called a slut but I’m not one.”

He laughed at that, taking hold of your hand. “Hey, I’m not fussy about the alley.”

Something moved in the trash and your drunken bravado eased off a little. “I wouldn’t be but -”

“You’re safe with me,” Dean promised, his tone actually sincere and you gazed at him warily. You hadn’t figured out much of his personality, didn’t know anything about him other than his name and that he really liked it when a girl stuck her tongue on that space between his balls and his asshole, which wasn’t a whole bunch to go on.

“My place,” you decided, resolving to text your sister and tell her to call in the morning and make sure you weren’t dismembered. Dean’s eyes flashed black in the dim light and you hesitated for a split second, convincing yourself it was a trick of the light. “Cab?”

“I got a ride,” Dean grunted back, pulling a set of keys from his pocket and tugging you toward the alley entrance.

“Dude, you drank a hell of a lot of whiskey back there -”

He had you against the wall in a second, his hard body grinding you into the brickwork and you whimpered pathetically, feeling moisture seep into your panties. Confessing all your kinks to a stranger was both a blessing and a curse - he knew exactly how to play you like a fiddle. It was likely tonight would be the wildest night of your life and you were trying to ignore the sliver of fear that said it might also be your last.

The clock tower in the center of town struck midnight and Dean shoved his thigh up against your core.

“I’ve got good constitution. Do I look drunk to you?” he asked.

“No.”

Your throat was dry as hell, most likely because every ounce of liquid in your body was now dripping out from your vagina, anticipating the hot sex this bad boy predicted. Dean smirked, one hand inching up your thigh underneath your skirt.

“So, I’m driving,” he stated, his thumb tucking into the crease where your thigh met your hip, “unless you wanna turn me down?”

This was your out. Maybe this man was dangerous, maybe you were walking into the arms of Death, but hell, at least he was giving you the option to say no.

“You want this?” Dean continued, his erection pressing into your core through the layers of fabric. “Want me to take you home and fuck you until you can’t see straight? Or were all those dirty little things you whispered in the bar a fantasy of someone else?” His thumb was inside your panties now, stroking just above the spot where your clit throbbed. “Do you want me to fuck you like the whore you really are, Y/N?”

You nodded, gasping out a yes and Dean smiled, pulling away, leaving you to slump against the wall. It took a few seconds for you to recover before you stumbled to your feet and followed him to the black classic car parked on the curb illegally.

“Nice car,” you commented, meaning to sound confident and managing to sound wrecked.

He didn’t say anything, climbing into the driver’s seat as you got into the passenger side, noting the dirt smeared on the cars paintwork. “Where we going?”

“6th and Main.”

Dean leaned forward, turning the stereo on as the car roared to life, the low beat of The Doors spilling out through the speakers. You were less drunk and more nervous now - not that you were intending on backing out. A single girl didn’t just pass up sex with a man as fucking hot as Dean.

Your apartment wasn’t far from the place you’d been drinking and when Dean pulled the Impala to a stop outside, you got out before he’d turned the engine off. He caught up with you at the building entrance, shoving you up against the door.

Fumbling in your pockets for your keys became an issue as Dean ground against you, pressing wet kisses wherever he found bare skin. His fingers were underneath your skirt again and you gasped, trying to push him off. “Dean, I need -”

Getting the door open took longer than it should have and Dean didn’t take his hands off of you until you were bundling through your apartment door, knocking over the little table in the hallway and sending the mail flying.

“Now we’re somewhere private,” Dean snarled, kicking the door shut, “strip. Now.”

His fingers were twisted into the collar of your jacket and he dragged it down roughly, stepping back with an expectant expression on his face. “Here?”

“Did I stutter?”

You hesitated, kicking your pumps off first. “Wouldn’t you rather go to the bedroom?”

Dean moved faster than you could keep up with, his big hand around your throat slamming you into the wall by the kitchen door. A picture of your childhood dog rattled and fell to the floor and fear made your arousal spiral. “I told you to strip, slut. Show me that pretty little cunt you’ve been teasing me with all night.”

Your breath rushed back into your lungs when he released you and you clung to the wall as you tried to right yourself. Dean stepped back, smirking.

With shaking fingers, you pulled your sweater up over your head, quickly following it up by removing your vest. The red lacy bra you’d worn was supposed to be a surprise for Chris, the ex, but you wouldn’t be shocked if Dean appreciated the matching set.

He groaned when you pushed your skirt down, stepping out of it and lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the color on you,” Dean growled, palming his crotch, “I said I wanted to see your cunt. And there’s a thong in the way.”

You swallowed and reached behind you to unhook your bra, letting the soft material glide down your arms until you could toss it away. It felt odd, standing in your front room, one foot on the carpet and one foot on the linoleum tiles that led into the kitchen, almost nude for a perfect stranger.

Honestly, it was a miracle the thong hadn’t disintegrated with your arousal.

“Quit teasing,” Dean warned, licking his lips when your thumbs hooked into the sides of the red thong. You pulled it down, standing straight and Dean groaned, tilting his head to the side as his eyes swept over your body. “Aren’t you a pretty little whore?”

He moved closer, lifting one hand to brush the back of his finger over your hardening nipple. You sucked in a breath and he chuckled.

“Hmmm, I can practically smell how much you wanna be fucked,” he purred, grasping your nipple between two fingers and twisting enough to make you whimper, “are you wet, Y/N? Dripping?” Dean’s other hand was on your thigh now, slowly pressing between them. His finger stroked your bare folds and he hummed in appreciation. “Shaved?” You nodded apprehensively and he gave your nipple another twist.

Dean didn’t say anything else, keeping his attention on your face as he worked his finger into you, groaning as you clenched reflexively around him. Your eyes closed and your lips parted in a whine as he started to fuck you with the single digit, slowly, curling it to explore your reactions.

You grabbed his bicep, clinging onto him as he kept going, smirking as he worked you higher and higher. When you moaned his name, Dean added a second finger, picking up speed until his movements were making a wet sucking sound.

“Hear that?” he groaned, “that’s how fucking wet you are for me. Letting a strange man into your apartment, letting him touch you like this?” His mouth grazed over yours. “What does that make you?”

“A whore,” you choked out, digging your fingers into his arm as your body responded to his touch, pleasure flooding your veins. Dean abandoned your breast, sliding his fingers to hold the back of your neck, tangling them in your hair. The top of your head grazed the wall as he bent you backward, working his fingers faster into your cunt.

“Cum for me, whore.”

The snarled words snaked through you like an electric current and you bucked on his fingers, digging your nails into his arm hard - the only thing protecting him from you drawing blood was his thick flannel overshirt. He withdrew abruptly, releasing his hold on your body and your legs folded underneath you.

Dean watched you fall onto your hands and knees, gasping for breath, a satisfied smirk on his face. You managed to push yourself up, sitting on your heels and looking up at him, skin flushed and sweat starting to bead on your forehead.

His pants were undone and Dean pulled his cock free, stroking himself as he looked down at you. “Come here.”

Staying on your hands and knees, you crawled toward him, seeing the pleased glint in his eye as you submitted. When you reached his feet, Dean stroked one hand through your hair before fisting the strands in his fingers and pulling your head back.

“Open your mouth.”

You obeyed and he groaned, abandoning his cock for a moment to push two fingers between your lips - the same two he’d fucked you with only moments before. The taste of your skin lingered on his and you kept eye contact, sucking at the digits as Dean thrust them back and forth.

He withdrew after only a few strokes, replacing his fingers with his cock and you moaned as you took him in, rolling your tongue around his flared head. Dean groaned, forcing a little more of his shaft into your mouth until your eyes started to water.

“I know you can do better than that,” he ground out, “suck my cock like a proper slut.”

That dark little tendril of pleasure that curled in your belly spread outward at the way he treated you, the almost-black lust in his eyes as he watched you suck and lap at his dick. The sounds he made assured you that you were pleasing him, encouraging you to take more of his cock into your mouth until you were forced to breathe through your nose.

“That’s it,” he murmured, stroking your hair, “god, you are good at that.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on your task, taking Dean’s shaft as far as you could, gagging and spluttering when you reached your limit and pulled back. Tears leaked from your eyes when Dean’s fingers tightened in your hair again, forcing you to repeat the action, making you gag again.

“God that feels good,” he thrust again, “perfect cocksucker.” You moaned and choked, prompting Dean to pull back, stroking his dick as you gasped for breath. “You want me to cum in your mouth, whore?” Swallowing the excess saliva in your mouth, you shook your head and Dean grinned. “Where do you want me cum?”

Still trying to catch your breath, you stuttered and Dean jerked your head back a little more, making you squeak. “I - inside me,” you whined. His dark laughter sent a shiver down your spine and a second later, Dean pressed his cock back to your lips.

“Who says I can’t do both?”

Any protest you might have had was cut off as Dean thrust his dick back into your mouth, sliding it over your tongue and not stopping, even when he felt the resistance of your throat. You choked, slamming your hand into his thigh, trying to cry out.

He pulled back abruptly and you fell forward, trying not to cry at the burning in your throat.

“Whoops, sorry,” Dean chuckled, helping you back onto your knees, “forget my own strength.”

You held your throat, giving him a dirty look. “I do need to breathe, ya know,” you growled out, but Dean’s smirk didn’t falter.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t soaking fucking wet and I’ll believe you.” Seconds ticked by and you couldn’t meet his gaze; Dean reached for you again, fingers curling in your hair. “I thought so.” You didn’t resist when he pulled you back to his cock, this time thrusting until you started to gag and no further.

He was groaning again now, guttural noises leaving his lips as he fucked your mouth. You pressed a hand between your thighs, aching again for some kind of friction. The movement caught Dean’s eye and he laughed, tilting your head back a little more.

“Na-uh,” he chided, “it’s my turn.”

His cock twitched and you moaned around him, tasting his precum practically dribbling from the tip onto your tongue. Dean picked up the pace, fisting your hair tighter as he chased his climax.

“You’re gonna swallow every drop,” he panted, eyes closed tightly. “That’s it, fuck, yes,” a primal sound left him and then you tasted it. Sweet and salty on your tongue, spurting against the back of your throat. You swallowed, trying to keep up, but when Dean pulled away, cum trickled down your chin. “I said,” he caught the drop with his finger, offering it to you, “every drop.”

Obediently, you stuck your tongue out, swirling it around his finger to suck it clean. Dean groaned, smiling in satisfaction and stepping away, almost like he was just noticing his surroundings as he tucked his cock back into his pants.

“Nice place you got,” he muttered, abandoning you on the floor, “bathroom?”

You pointed toward the corridor. “Far end, on the right.” He walked off without another word, his boots crunching down the hallway, leaving you to pick yourself up off of the floor. Clinging to the back of the couch, you hauled yourself up, gasping for breath.

Dean was whistling, the sound echoing from the bathroom and a moment later, you heard the door open again. Your legs were still shaking, arousal still pounding through your veins and you weren’t sure if Dean was even up to a round two, despite his assurances.

“Hmm, now that’s a view,” he commented, rounding the corner to see your bare ass, “and right in position, too.”

“Huh?” preceded your alarmed shriek when Dean pushed you over the back of the couch, almost bending you in two. He crouched, lifting your ass until your hips and belly were on balanced on the thick cushions, the hard backboard digging into your pelvis as your feet came off of the ground.

Dean buried his tongue inside you without warning and you cried out, thrashing against him. His hands held you steady, wrapping around your thighs with a vice-like grip.

“De - De - gah -”

Your attempts to talk were only met with his chuckle against your pussy, his fingers teasing your hole open as his tongue moved to your clit. “What was that?” he asked, pulling back and blowing softly over your sensitive skin. “You wanna cum?”

“Ye - yes!” The response was a wail that you were certain old Mrs. Donney next door would comment on the next day. Assuming Dean wasn’t some psychopath killer that would fuck you into next century then paint the kitchen with your entrails.

He hummed, returning his tongue to your clit, sucking the swollen bud into his mouth. The sounds he made were obscene, grunts and groans like he was devouring the most delicious dessert in the world. You were almost cross-eyed, desperate to cum, even more desperate to feel that generous cock inside you.

Dean slapped your ass, sliding his tongue free of your folds and getting to his feet. “That’s enough pre-show. You’re ready for me.”

“What?” you gasped, so close to cumming you could taste it and frustration made you groan, pushing up with your arms to look at him. “You’re not -”

His hand collided with your ass again and you yelped as he laughed. “Did you think I was joking?” Dean teased, freeing his renewed erection from his pants. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” Some sort of sound half-way between a sensual groan and a death rattle left you and Dean wrapped his hand around your shoulder, dragging you upright easily.

“Dean -”

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, aligning the tip of his cock with your hole, “I’m clean.”

He slid into you with one smooth stroke that obliterated your sudden alarm. Pleasure washed over you and you barely noticed his hand move from your shoulder to your throat. Dean’s weight pressed into you, forcing you against the couch almost painfully.

“Want me to stop, whore?” Dean asked, pulling out and thrusting back in, punching the air from your lungs. “Or you want me to fuck you?”

His fingers tightened on your throat; an edge of panic made you thrash and Dean snarled, dragging you down onto the floor. Your tits pressed into the carpet, his fingers still clutching your throat.

“Answer,” he thrust hard and you screamed, “the fucking,” another thrust and tears rolled down your cheeks, “question.”

“H -” you gasped, almost seeing double, “harder!”

Dean’s face split open in a wicked grin - from your position you couldn’t see the black flood his eyes and you couldn’t feel the heat of the weird tattoo on his arm. He started to slam into you, over and over, almost pushing you along the carpet until your skin was burning with the contact. You weren’t sure if you were cumming or dying but either way, it felt amazing and you screamed until Dean tightened his grip on your throat and cut off the sound.

He wasn’t so chatty now, more animal-like in his rutting, trying to get as deep as he could. You arched your back and tried to lift your ass, giving him an angle that had him hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. A sudden pressure exploded inside you and you wailed, the noise choked by his hand.

“Fucking squirting over me,” Dean growled, “dirty bitch.”

You were hovering on the edge of consciousness. His hand was cutting off your air too much and your vision was beginning to fade. Everything felt soft and light, and your hormone-slash-alcohol riddled brain accepted that Dean might kill you after all.

It felt like forever before he released inside you, his thick warm seed filling your womb, leaking out around Dean’s cock as he continued to fuck you through his climax. The wet sound of his thrusts sounded like echoes and he slowly released your throat, allowing air to flow back into your lungs.

There was a high-pitched ringing in your ears and you vaguely felt Dean pull away, leaving you on the carpet with a playful slap to your ass.

“Tell me Mr. Not-That-Type-Girl ever fucked you like that,” he grunted, pulling off his boots and shirt, discarding his jeans. You didn’t move until he touched you, lifting you gingerly from the floor and walking with you through to your bedroom. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t remember your own name, let alone his.”

Dean dropped you onto the bed, looking down at you as you groaned and twitched, still sensitive from the way he’d touched you.

“Done with me?” you managed and Dean smirked.

You didn’t miss the black in his eyes this time and he tucked his tongue between his teeth, leering at you.

“Frightened?”

Swallowing, you sat up, greedily reaching for him.

“No.”

*****

Everything hurt.

It was like a vibration that coursed through your entire body, making you feel sluggish and heavy. With a groan, you rolled over, blinking at the old digital alarm clock that told you it was sometime past nine am.

Christmas morning.

Yay.

Your phone blinked on the side with two missed calls from your sister and a text. Swiping it, you almost missed the note pinned underneath. You picked it up and frowned, reading the messy scrawl on the front, a phone number with a short message.

_If you need that itch scratched again, just call._

_Dean._


End file.
